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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917220">The Longest Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsforgarters/pseuds/gutsforgarters'>gutsforgarters</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Politics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:14:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gutsforgarters/pseuds/gutsforgarters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Before the iceberg, before Aang, before <i>everything</i>, Katara used to tell herself bedtime stories about what life would be like after the war. She imagined that her father would come home, that the Avatar would return, that her tribe would rebuild and prosper. Most of all, she imagined that she’d never again have to stand at the outskirts of her village and watch Fire Nation ships crest the horizon like iron sea serpents, belching toxic smoke and turning the snowfall black. </p><p>She never would have guessed that those ships would sail South in times of peace, and she <i>certainly</i> never conceived of a world in which she would find herself falling slowly in love with the Fire Lord—but then, life's just full of surprises, isn't it?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Katara/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbelles/gifts">redbelles</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is set several months post-canon, and largely ignores the comics. I <i>did</i> cherry pick certain elements from the <i>North and South</i> trilogy, but you don't need to read that in order to understand this. (In fact, I would go so far as to recommend <i>against</i> reading it, because it...is bad.)</p><p>I'm very excited to be writing for my OG OTP, and I have Meg to thank/blame for it, so I'm dedicating this to her. Thanks for getting me back on my Zutara bullshit.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before the iceberg, before Aang, before <em>everything</em>, Katara used to tell herself bedtime stories about what life would be like after the war. She imagined that her father would come home, that the Avatar would return, that her tribe would rebuild and prosper. Most of all, she imagined that she’d never again have to stand at the outskirts of her village and watch Fire Nation ships crest the horizon like iron sea serpents, belching toxic smoke and turning the snowfall black.</p><p>Because she wasn’t wrong to believe, because she wasn’t wrong to <em>hope</em>, three of those things came true. Aang woke up from his hundred-year sleep and saved the world. Her father came home. And thanks in no small part to their sister tribe’s aid, the South is well on its way to being restored to its former glory.</p><p>But a Fire Nation cruiser has just appeared on the horizon, and as Katara looks on with a lump in her throat and an anxious pinch in her chest, the morning’s light snowfall turns from white to gray to black.</p><p>She pushes down the instinctive, <em>irrational </em>spurt of fear like a geyser down a vent and speaks from the corner of her mouth. “Stop fidgeting, Sokka.”</p><p>“Who’s fidgeting? I’m not fidgeting,” Sokka tells her, and then immediately contradicts himself by hooking a finger in his embroidered collar and tugging it away from his neck. “Man, and I thought Fire Nation clothing looked stiff. Who even designed this thing? Was this a Northerner’s idea?”</p><p>Instead of snapping at him like she badly wants to, Katara presses her eyes shut and attempts to channel Aang’s seemingly bottomless wells of patience. When that doesn’t work, she opens her eyes and shoots her brother a glare that would very likely melt ice floes if she were a firebender.</p><p>“No, it wasn’t, because the Northerners aren’t the ones hosting this peace summit. Now knock it off.”</p><p>Sokka must not like the glint in her eye, because he drops his hand and subsides with a put-upon huff. Predictably, it doesn’t last.</p><p>“This is stupid. What’s with all the formalities, anyway? It’s just Zuko.”</p><p>Katara grits her teeth. If they’ve been over this once, they’ve been over it a thousand times. “Just <em>Fire Lord</em> Zuko.”</p><p>Sokka crosses his arms, as mutinous as any child five years his junior. “Whatever. I’m not calling him that.”</p><p>Oh, that is<em> it</em>. Katara rounds on him with a snarl, water sloshing in her pouch. “You’ll call him that if you don’t want to cause a diplomatic incident! Honestly, Sokka, will you just suck it up already? You’re not a kid anymore!”</p><p>“<em>You</em> suck it up,” Sokka mumbles. Katara opens her mouth to tell him that that doesn’t even make any<em> sense</em>, only to snap it back shut when Pakku shoots them a stern look.</p><p>“That’s quite enough, you two. Katara, compose yourself. Sokka, stop antagonizing your sister.”</p><p>Sokka makes an enraged noise and flings his hand out to point accusingly at Katara, who has to duck to avoid getting inadvertently walloped across the face. “She started it!”</p><p>Kanna’s flinty expression puts her husband’s to shame. No wonder they make such a good couple. “And I’ll finish it,” she says mildly, “if the two of you don’t settle down before the Fire Lord arrives. What would your father say if he could see you now?”</p><p>Kanna’s question will have to remain hypothetical for the time being, given that Hakoda is conspicuous in his absence, the empty spot where he ought to be standing between Sokka and Kanna gaping like an open wound. It <em>shouldn’t</em> be empty, and wouldn’t be, if this morning’s Council meeting hadn’t run over.</p><p>But Katara knows better than to test her grandmother’s patience by pointing that out, so she bites back the retort that’s sitting like a drop of acid on her tongue and clasps her hands at her waist, redirecting her scowl to the approaching Fire Nation vessel. A tense minute passes in an exquisitely awkward silence that not even Ty Lee dares to fill. On Katara’s other side, Suki presses her gloved fist to her mouth and muffles a rather pointed cough.</p><p>Katara turns to frown at her, only to find Suki staring straight ahead, painted face as stoic as a statue’s. Katara sighs, battles silently with her pride for a moment, then reaches over to tug on Sokka’s sleeve.</p><p>“Hey,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve taken my bad mood out on you.”</p><p>Sokka’s temper must have cooled in the interim, too, because he’s quick to shrug her apology off. “Hey, I get it. Things are kind of crazy right now, and I know how you are under pressure. You were bound to blow up eventually—we’re just lucky a Fire Nation diplomat didn’t get caught in the crossfire.”</p><p>“Gee,” Katara says, dry as dust. “Thanks.” Suki stifles another cough.  </p><p>“No problem,” Sokka says brightly, and deftly sidesteps the elbow Katara aims at his ribs.</p><p>Which is fine, because she didn’t mean for it to connect, anyway. Not with Kanna and Pakku watching their every move, and certainly not now that the Fire Nation cruiser has pulled into the harbor and begun to dock. Next to the Water Tribe ships, it sticks out like a sore, sooty thumb.</p><p>At least it didn’t ram through the ice this time.</p><p>Hands fisted at her sides, Katara cranes a look over her shoulder—but if she was hoping for a last-minute miracle, she doesn’t get one. Her father’s nowhere to be seen, and she knows deep in her gut that the responsibility of welcoming the Fire Lord to the South Pole is going to land squarely on hers and Sokka’s shoulders. They are the chief’s only children, after all.</p><p>The hiss of the gangplank being lowered draws her attention back to the ship. She almost reaches for Sokka’s hand, but stays herself. She’s here as a representative of her tribe, so she’d better start acting like it. She can’t go clinging to her big brother for support every single time she’s shaken by fear and uncertainty.</p><p>And she’s feeling plenty <em>shaken</em>, alright, as the Fire Lord and his retinue descend their ship’s metal ramp to the South Pole’s newly minted docks, all of them decked out in opulent furs and sweeping parkas. But how much of her apprehension can be attributed to her father’s tardiness, and how much of it goes deeper than that? Is she scared of all the things that could go wrong over the next five days, or is she scared of the hulking iron ship and everything it represents to the part of her that’s still a traumatized little girl?</p><p>She feels a fleeting pressure against her hand and turns to look at Sokka just as his arm swings back down to his side. He’s squinting in the bright shard of sunlight that’s peeking through a gap in the heavy clouds, but the set of his jaw is firm, and for a moment, Katara catches a glimpse of the man he’s going to become.  </p><p>And then a fat snowflake lands on his nose and makes him sneeze, and he’s back to being her gangly, goofy brother, the illusion of maturity shattered.</p><p>An undignified snort escapes her at the exact same moment the Fire Lord’s boots touch down on the dock, and her eyes are still creased with restrained laughter when they flick up to meet Zuko’s for the first time in months.</p><p>Zuko looks—taken aback. Maybe even startled. By her laughter? Does he think she’s laughing <em>at </em>him? She sure hopes not; talk about a diplomatic incident in the making. She’s laughed with him and at him plenty of times before, but that was <em>before</em>. This isn’t Zuko, her friend. Like she told Sokka earlier, this is Zuko, the Fire Lord.</p><p>Her eyes catch on the five-pronged crown in his hair, glinting like liquid flame in the strengthening sunlight, then fix on her own feet as she bends forward to bow the shallowest bow she can get away with. It’s stopped snowing, but they’re in the grips of midwinter, and it’ll take days for the sooty slush that’s gathered on the coastline to melt.</p><p>When she straightens up a second later, it’s to find that the startled look on Zuko’s face has turned into a pinched frown, and that her brother, far from taking up the mantle of leader and spokesperson in their father’s absence, has frozen in place.</p><p>Katara fixes him with a hard stare, willing him to speak, and for a moment, it looks like it’s going to work—but when Sokka opens his mouth, no sound comes out. Which is just as well, actually, because one of the visiting dignitaries, a tall, severe-looking woman in a burgundy parka, seems perfectly content to fill the silence for him.</p><p>“What is the meaning of this?” the woman asks, looking down her nose at them in the particular way of Fire Nation nobility. Katara wonders if they all practice those looks in the mirror every morning before starting their days. “Where is Chief Hakoda?”</p><p>Sokka shuts his mouth with an audible click, trading out his dumbfounded look for a hot glare. Katara’s hands twitch at her sides as she contemplates covering his mouth before something they’ll all regret can come out of it, then twitch again in surprise when Zuko speaks up for the first time since he got here.</p><p>“Correct me if I’m wrong, Minister Ubon. Is it you who wears the crown?”</p><p>Katara inhales sharply through her nose, and Sokka sucks his lower lip into his mouth, eyes watering with restrained laughter. Spirits, but Katara really, <em>really</em> hopes that he manages to keep it together.</p><p>Minister Ubon manages to look even more severe than she had a moment ago. Her reply is clipped. “No, Your Highness.”</p><p>Zuko links his hands behind his back. He’s not even looking at Minister Ubon anymore. “Then given that Chief Hakoda and I are both heads of state, and that you are not, perhaps it would be best if you left the questions to me.”</p><p>Minister Ubon gives a stiff-necked bow. “Of course, Your Highness. I apologize.”</p><p>Zuko indicates the welcoming party with a tilt of his head. “Don’t apologize to me, Minister. I’m not the one you insulted.”</p><p>Minister Ubon doesn’t even bother to hide how unhappy she is to be bowing to a bunch of backwater peasants. “My sincerest apologies to you all. It will not happen again.”</p><p>Yeah. Katara’s <em>sure</em>. Her answering smile pinches at her face like frostbite. “Apology accepted, Minister.”</p><p>“Now, would you all look at this?” Iroh appears at Zuko’s shoulder, his posed relaxed, his amber eyes gleaming as brightly as the crown on his nephew’s head. “We are already getting along so swimmingly, and the peace summit has not even formally begun! What a fine example you have set, Minister Ubon. You’ve done the Fire Nation proud.”</p><p>Ubon smiles thinly. To Katara, she looks a bit like she’s just swallowed poison and is trying her best to hide the symptoms. “You humble me, General.”</p><p>And if Iroh saved them all from a decidedly awkward beginning to the week’s proceedings, then it’s Pakku who steps in to further pick up the slack. He bows briefly, then says, “We owe you an apology as well, Fire Lord Zuko. Chief Hakoda has been delayed through no fault of his own, but the fact remains that he promised to greet you at the docks upon your arrival.”</p><p>Zuko inclines his head. “There’s nothing to forgive. I can’t in good conscience fault Chief Hakoda for circumstances beyond his control.”</p><p>Katara knows what approval looks like on Pakku’s face, and she’s seeing it now. One of the myriad knots in her guts unravel, because while Pakku may be a Northerner, his opinion holds weight around here, and if he likes Zuko, then widespread trust in the Fire Lord’s good intentions should follow.</p><p>Maybe this whole thing won’t actually be a disaster, after all.</p><p>“If you’re willing to make do with an old man like me,” Pakku goes on, “I would be honored to take you and your companions on a tour through our new town hall.”</p><p><em>An old man like me</em>, huh? Katara exchanges discreet eyerolls with Sokka, then quickly schools her expression when she feels someone looking at her.</p><p>That someone turns out to be Zuko, but he turns away the second she meets his eyes. He presses his fist to his palm and bows to Pakku—deeper than his dignitaries were expecting him to, going by their quickly stifled scandalized looks.</p><p>“Yes,” says Zuko. “Of course. It would be our privilege.”</p><p>“Actually.” Iroh raises his index finger, looking as if he’s just been struck by a bolt of divine inspiration. “I had hoped to explore the new marketplace. I’ve heard tell that merchants from all over the world have come to Harbor City to sell their wares. Is this not true, Master Katara?”</p><p>Katara blinks, startled, and then flushes clear up to her scalp when all eyes turn abruptly on her. What was Iroh asking—?</p><p>Oh. Right. Well, she wouldn’t say that they had people coming from <em>all</em> over the world—Northerners, mostly, with a few Earth Kingdom merchants thrown in for variety, as well as one very brave Fire Nation soul who’d come here to sell ornate combs and jewelry—but given that there hadn’t even <em>been</em> a marketplace a few months back, she supposes that Iroh’s assessment is accurate enough, if only comparatively.</p><p>“Ah, yes. Yes, that’s true.” Katara feels a sudden spurt of empathy for Sokka’s plight; it’s taking every ounce of discipline she’s got not to fidget. “I could escort you there, if you’d like.”</p><p>A wide grin breaks like a sunrise across Iroh’s face. “That would be quite delightful, Master Katara, quite delightful indeed. Would you care to join us, nephew?”</p><p><em>What?</em> Katara almost blurts it out loud, only to be saved from embarrassment by Ubon, of all people.   </p><p>“Pardon me, General Iroh, but I’m not certain if that would be appropriate—”</p><p>Zuko’s severe frown puts Ubon’s to shame; it probably helps that one quarter of his face <em>always </em>looks severe no matter his mood.</p><p>“I’ll decide what is and isn’t appropriate, Minister. I’d be honored to join you, Uncle.” Zuko’s eyes flick to Katara, and she finds herself straightening her spine and sticking out her chin. “Master Katara.”</p><p>Oh, so it’s <em>Master</em> Katara now? Something about that feels…weird. Which is stupid, because she was <em>just </em>lecturing Sokka on titles and formalities, but. She doesn’t know.</p><p>It’s just weird.</p><p>Katara’s still feeling a bit strange when they split into two groups, her, Zuko, Iroh, and Suki heading for the marketplace while the others follow Pakku to the newly erected town hall. Sokka gives her wide-eyed look over his shoulder, and she shrugs helplessly back. This isn’t how she envisioned today going, either.</p><p>It’ll be fine. They can do this.</p><p>At least she won’t have to go it alone. Suki’s quiet, staying to the rear of their party and keeping an eye out for potential threats, but Iroh and his endless stream of chatter make for a great buffer. You’d think they were in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se, with the way he reacts to the comparatively humble sights and sounds of Harbor City’s marketplace, but Katara doesn’t doubt that his praise is sincere.</p><p>As for her, she smiles when appropriate and answers when he asks her a question, and does her best not to stare too obviously at Zuko, who’s walking along at his uncle’s side with his hands clasped and his head bowed, seemingly lost in thought.</p><p>Katara’s not the only one who’s staring, although she <em>is</em> the only one who’s trying to be discreet about it. There’s no way Zuko hasn’t noticed the attention, but he’s doing a fairly good job at pretending otherwise, and Katara’s having a hard time reconciling the composed young man she sees before her with the seethingly angry boy who used to dog her and her friends all across the world. She knows that everyone’s capable of growth and change, but she doesn’t think she’s ever met another person who’s changed as much and as drastically as Zuko.</p><p>Iroh touches a light hand to her shoulder, drawing her out of her thoughts and bringing her to a halt. “Wait a moment, Master Katara.” His head swivels from side to side, nostrils flaring. “What <em>is</em> that enticing scent?”</p><p>Enticing…? Katara looks around too, frowning, until her eyes land on a nearby food cart. The woman behind it catches her eye and waves, and Katara waves back before tapping Iroh on the shoulder.</p><p>“Er, General Iroh—”</p><p>Iroh smiles patiently at her. “Now, Master Katara, have I not asked you to call me Uncle?”</p><p>Katara flushes, then flushes harder when she feels Zuko looking at her. Never mind <em>his</em> probable discomfort; <em>she’s </em>getting sick of being stared at.</p><p>“Right, of course. Sorry, Uncle. I was just wondering—by <em>enticing scent</em>, do you mean Ashuna’s blubbered seal jerky?”</p><p>Over Iroh’s shoulder, she sees Zuko frown to himself and mouth “Blubbered seal jerky?”</p><p>Katara bites back a giggle. So maybe he’s not quite so impenetrably composed as she’d thought, after all.</p><p>“Ah!” Iroh smacks his fist against his palm. “So that’s what it’s called? Lord Zuko, would you care for a midmorning snack?”</p><p>Zuko schools his face into neutrality. “We ate breakfast on the ship, Uncle.” </p><p>Katara’s mouth twists. What, so Water Tribe cuisine isn’t good enough for His Royal Fieriness? <em>Hff</em>.</p><p>Iroh, however, is not so easily discouraged. “But have you forgotten already, nephew? You said that you were too nervous to eat.”</p><p>Katara arches her eyebrows at Suki, who smirks back. Nervous, was it?</p><p>Zuko makes a pained face; embarrassing parents, Katara thinks, really are a universal experience. “Uncle, please—”</p><p>But Iroh’s not listening, having decided to appeal to Suki and Katara instead. “And what about the two of you? Would either of you young ladies care for a snack?”  </p><p>Actually, Katara’s stomach is too full of knots to make room for much else, but Suki politely rejects Iroh’s offer before Katara has to.  </p><p>“Thank you, sir, but I’m on duty.”</p><p>“Ah, but surely it would not hurt to take a little snack break,” Iroh wheedles, holding his thumb and forefinger an inch apart to illustrate just how <em>little</em> this hypothetical snack break will be.</p><p>Suki’s lips twitch. “Kyoshi Warriors don’t take snack breaks, sir.”</p><p>Iroh touches a hand to his heart with an appalled gasp, and Zuko makes an impatient sound at his uncle’s theatrics.  </p><p>“Oh, for the love of—” Zuko meets Katara’s eyes and wrestles the scowl off his face. “If you want to try the blubbered seal jerky, Uncle, no one’s stopping you.”  </p><p>“I realize that, nephew.” Iroh lifts morose eyes to Zuko’s face. “But good food is best enjoyed in good company, don’t you agree?”</p><p>Zuko sighs and reaches for his coin purse.</p><p>“Delicious!” Iroh declares a few moments later, and with enough enthusiasm that his voice echoes all around the market. “All we need now is some good tea to wash it down.”  </p><p>Katara glances at Zuko, who’s eyeing his own fistful of jerky like it might possess explosive properties. “I’d chew that slowly if I were you.”</p><p>Zuko looks surprised, but why? Because she’s talking to him? Has she been acting that distant? “Yeah? Why’s that?”</p><p>“Don’t want the Fire Lord breaking a tooth, now, do we?” </p><p>Zuko contemplates that. “Is all Water Tribe cooking this…chewy?”</p><p>Katara should probably feel offended, but she finds herself wanting to smile instead. “No. Just Ashuna’s.”</p><p>“I see.” He holds the jerky out to Katara. “Would you like my share?”</p><p>Her mouth trembles as the smile she’s holding back fights to break free. “That’s very generous of you, Your Highness. But I’m not looking to break a tooth, either.”</p><p>Zuko squints at the back of Iroh’s head; he and Katara have drifted behind a bit, and now it’s Suki who’s nodding along to Iroh’s commentary on Southern versus Northern architecture.</p><p>“Uncle seems to be faring well enough.”</p><p>“Then I guess he must have really strong teeth,” Katara says solemnly, and Zuko gives a thoughtful nod.</p><p>“Must be.”</p><p>She holds his eyes for a moment, then looks away when his lips start to twitch.</p><p>“Is everything alright?”</p><p>Katara stumbles, and Zuko reaches out a hand as if to steady her, but she steadies herself before he gets the chance to. She remains facing front when she says, a bit clipped, “Everything’s fine.”</p><p>Zuko stops walking, and Katara considers going on without him. But she can’t just abandon the Fire Lord in the middle of the marketplace, either, so she stops and turns to face him, her breath catching in her lungs when she gets a good look at his face.</p><p>She hasn’t seen him look this wounded since the Western Air Temple, when she threw everything he’d ever done wrong back in his face because she wanted to hurt him at least half as badly as he’d hurt her.</p><p>“Katara,” he says. Not <em>Master</em> Katara. Just Katara. “It’s me.”</p><p>He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t have to, because Katara knows what she was doing—she’s been treating him like a foreign head of state instead of a trusted friend. He may be the Fire Lord, but he’s also Zuko. She has to believe that he won’t use any signs of weakness against her.</p><p>“You’re right.” Gradually, the tense set of her shoulders relaxes into a slump. “I’m sorry.” She glances around, then gestures him forward. They need to catch up with Iroh and Suki before Suki comes back and fetches them herself. “C’mon.”</p><p>After a moment’s hesitation, Zuko follows.</p><p>Katara crosses her arms and bows her head, thinking. She wants to explain what’s going on, but she doesn’t know where to start. There’s just—so much. <em>Too</em> much.</p><p>“Katara?”</p><p>She blows out an icy breath. “They want to build my dad a palace.”</p><p>Zuko’s good eyebrow furrows. “They?”</p><p>She gestures at everything and nothing. “They! The Northerners. My dad’s chief, and up North, the chief lives in a palace.”  </p><p>“And you object to this,” says Zuko. It’s not a question.</p><p>“Yes. No? I don’t know.” She gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about it. What matters is that there are people on the Council of Elders who object to Northern interference in general.”</p><p>In her periphery, she sees Zuko nod. “Is that what you would call it? Interference?”</p><p>“No,” Katara decides, simplifying her complicated feelings on the matter for expediency’s sake because, again, <em>her</em> feelings aren’t what’s important here. “Actually, I think a little bit of economic aid is the least the North owes us.”</p><p>“Not that my opinion holds any weight here,” Zuko says carefully, “but I think you’re right.”</p><p>It does hold weight, is the thing—in the sense that it makes her feel vindicated. “Thanks. It’s just that some people…” She sighs. “Some people are afraid that the North’s trying to annex us, and that their assistance is just the first step down that road.”</p><p>“Do <em>you</em> think that’s what they’re doing?”</p><p>“I think that some of them probably want to.” She pulls her braid over her shoulder and gives it an anxious tug, twisting the woven strands tighter. “I also think that Chief Arnook would deny it if I asked.”</p><p>Zuko’s silent for a moment, then says, “Professionally, I think it’s best that I stay neutral with regards to the affairs of other nations.”</p><p>Katara tries not to visibly stiffen. He’s right; it is for the best. “Of course.”</p><p>“But personally, I’m here if you need me.”</p><p>Katara turns her head so fast it’s a wonder she doesn’t give herself whiplash. Zuko’s staring straight ahead, his unscarred profile turned toward her, and it’s only been a few months since she last saw him, but he looks so much older now than he did then that it might as well have been years.</p><p>Ascending the throne at such a young age will do that to you, she supposes. Either you grow up fast, or you drown.</p><p>“Thank you, Zuko,” she says, still watching him closely. His cheek turns pink.  </p><p>“Uh-huh,” he mumbles, once again looking and sounding entirely his age. Katara’s mouth ticks into a smile, but it’s quick to fade.</p><p>“That’s not all, though.”</p><p>Zuko doesn’t prompt her, but the quality of his silence is patient. He’ll let her get to it in her own time, and for that, she’s grateful.</p><p>Her strides slow, and Zuko’s slow with hers, until there’s a wider cushion of space between them and the other two. She also drifts closer to his side, so that she can feel the heat coming off of him like a furnace. Does he even need those furs, or are they just for show?</p><p>“Most of the people who are opposed to Northern interference are also opposed to reconciling with the Fire Nation.”</p><p>Quietly, Zuko says, “Can you blame them?”</p><p>“Not really. Can you?”</p><p>Zuko smiles wryly. “Not really.”</p><p>Right answer, Katara decides. “Gilak—that’s one of the Elders who opposes reconciliation—he picked a fight with my dad during this morning’s Council meeting. That’s why he was so late.”</p><p>Zuko hums thoughtfully. “Interesting timing on Gilak’s part.”  </p><p>So it wasn’t just her. “Yeah. I thought so, too.”</p><p>Iroh stops to admire the Fire Nation merchant’s selection of jewelry, and Zuko and Katara stop with him, still hanging back a bit. Katara watches Iroh show a jade necklace to Suki, and her heart gives a hard pang. She can’t blame her fellow tribesmen for wanting nothing to do with the Fire Nation politically, but not all Fire Nation citizens are politicians and soldiers. Most of them have more in common with people like her than they do with Ozai. They suffered under his reign, too. Many of them just want to make a living in times of peace.</p><p>“Everything’s going to be okay, Katara.”</p><p>Katara’s mouth compresses into a tight, tense line. She doesn’t look at Zuko when she asks, “How do you know?”  </p><p>“Gilak can’t keep your father tied up forever, and Aang’s supposed to be flying in tomorrow. Nobody’s going to cause trouble with the Avatar around.” </p><p>Now <em>that’s </em>just about the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “You say that like trouble doesn’t have a way of finding <em>him</em>.”</p><p>“…Fair point.”</p><p>Katara nods, vaguely, then ducks her head and kicks up a cloud of snow. She can feel the awkward silence settling in again, and she’s desperate—<em>desperate</em>—to keep it at bay.</p><p>“So, um. How’ve you b—”</p><p>“Katara! Katara, over here!”</p><p>Katara looks up, and when she sees who it is, she can’t help it—she frowns. At her side, Zuko straightens his posture, and it’s not until he does it that she realizes just how much he’d begun to relaxed since she started talking to him.</p><p>“Who’s that?”</p><p>“Malina,” Katara says quietly. “She and her brother Maliq are architects from up North. They’re the ones who want to build my dad a palace.”</p><p>“And you don’t like them.”</p><p>“I never said that.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to.”</p><p>Kicking foreign heads of state in the shin is probably frowned upon. “What, are you a mind reader now?”</p><p>“I don’t have to be,” Zuko says mildly. “Not to guess what you’re thinking. You’re an awful liar, Katara.”</p><p>Katara clenches her jaw, but Malina jogs up to them before she can say or do something that really <em>will </em>cause a diplomatic incident. Talk about timing.</p><p>Malina bows perfunctorily to Zuko and Iroh. “Good morning, Your Highnesses. Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?”</p><p>Zuko appears to be at a loss. “It just stopped snowing.”</p><p>“Yes, exactly.” Malina turns to Katara, brushing her short hair out of her eyes. “Katara, the Council just wrapped up their meeting. If you’re all done here, your father’s ready to welcome the Fire Lord.”</p><p>Zuko lifts his chin, and the glimpse Katara had gotten of her friend is gone. There’s just the Fire Lord now.</p><p>“Yes,” he says. “Thank you for coming to get us. Let’s go, Uncle.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, just one moment. I’ll be back later,” Iroh promises the Fire Nation merchant, who beams and bows. Then he takes his place at his nephew’s side and follows Malina to Harbor City's town hall. </p><p>Katara trails after them at a sedate pace, frowning down at her feet. Suki brushes up against her and says, “I thought you’d be happier.”</p><p>Katara looks up. “About what?”</p><p>Suki shrugs. “It’s been a while since you’ve spoken to Zuko in person. I thought you’d be happier to see him again.”</p><p>What exactly is Suki getting at here? “I am. Aren’t you?”</p><p>“Sure. But we’re talking about you.”</p><p>What is this, International Annoy Katara Day? “Yeah, I’m happy to see him. Of course I am. What makes you think that I’m not?”</p><p>All that heavy makeup makes it hard to read Suki’s face sometimes, but Katara could swear that she’s smirking very faintly. “I don’t know. You tell me.” Abruptly, she points at Katara’s seal jerky. “Are you gonna eat that?”</p><p>What happened to all that talk about Kyoshi Warriors not taking snack breaks? Katara shoves the jerky at Suki and storms off with a huff, and Suki follows with a quiet chuckle.</p><p>She’s glad that <em>someone’s</em> having a good time, anyway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You know,” Sokka muses, “I’m not usually one to turn down free stuff, but I think this might be overkill.”</p><p>As if to underscore Sokka’s assessment of the situation, a man in Fire Nation armor walks briskly by, stops, and sets down the trunk he was carrying with a muffled grunt of what Katara imagines to be abject relief. The trunk in question is heavily ornate—and, by the looks of it, just plain heavy—and it’s only the latest in a string of gifts that have slowly begun to stack toward the ceiling. And that’s saying something, because it’s a really high ceiling.</p><p>“Oh, really?” Katara asks, tipping back her head to take it all in. Privately, she wonders how much further the pile can grow before it all comes crashing down. “What makes you say that?”</p><p>Sokka ignores her. He cups his chin in his hand and affects a thoughtful pose. “D’you think they sent this much stuff to King Kuei?”</p><p>Katara trades exasperated looks with Suki—or at least,<em> Katara</em> looks exasperated. For the most part, Suki just looks fond, because she’s Sokka’s girlfriend and the two of them are nauseatingly in love with each other. Don’t get Katara wrong; she’s as happy for them as a person can be, but sometimes they’re just plain <em>gross</em>. </p><p>“I don’t know.” Katara watches a second Fire Nation sailor walk by; this one’s toting a very large and very elaborately painted folding screen. “Why don’t you ask them?”</p><p>Sokka considers this. “If I did, do you think they’d take it as an insult?”</p><p>“Probably,” Katara and Suki say in unison. Sokka crosses his arms and pouts.</p><p>“Ugh. I have<em> got</em> to stop letting you two hang out.”</p><p>“That’s funny,” says Suki, and while her tone is mild enough, it would be very unwise indeed to mistake the look in her eyes for anything but the warning it is. “I didn’t realize you had the authority to <em>let</em> us do anything.”</p><p>A look of utter panic crosses Sokka’s face, and Katara coughs to hide her snicker. If Suki sends him to the polar doghouse, it’ll serve him right.</p><p>“That’s not what I—” A peal of laughter escapes Katara, after all, and Sokka cuts himself off, frowning thunderously when Suki joins in.</p><p>“Ugh,” he says, again. “I can’t wait for Aang to get here. I hate being outnumbered.”</p><p>Like Aang’s ever been one to take sides, anyway. Still, as Katara’s laughter fades, she feels compelled to point out, “You aren’t. Zuko’s here, too. That makes it even, doesn’t it?”</p><p>Sokka shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. Zuko’s here on Fire Lordy business. He probably won’t even have time to go spear fishing with me.”</p><p>“Does Zuko even know how to spear fish?” Suki wonders as yet another Fire Nation sailor walks past them, laden down with a stack of gifts so high it’s a wonder they can see where they’re going. “I mean, do they even do that in the Fire Nation?”</p><p>Katara really hates standing around and doing nothing while the Fire Nation sailors do all the work, but she already offered her help, and they already told her no. Maybe that’s why she sounds a little prickly when she says, “I think the better question is, do <em>royalty</em> do that in the Fire Nation? And I’ll bet you anything the answer’s <em>no</em>.”</p><p>Sokka shrugs that off. “So I’ll teach him.”</p><p>Katara folds her hands at her waist and straightens her spine. “If Master Pakku were here, he’d tell you that showing off to a visiting head of state would be in poor taste.”</p><p>“I’m not <em>showing off</em>—” Sokka bites back the rest of what he was going to say, probably because he’s aware that Pakku really<em> would</em> dress him down if he happened to overhear it. “Whatever.” He eyeballs the heavy-looking trunk. “Are we allowed to open that?”</p><p>Katara frowns. “I think you should wait until they’ve finished bringing in the rest of it.” However long<em> that</em> takes.</p><p>“But it’s for us!”</p><p>“No, it’s for the <em>Water Tribe</em>—” Sokka’s not listening, because of course he isn’t. In fact, he’s already unlatched the trunk and started rifling through what’s inside.</p><p>In certain parts of the Earth Kingdom, there’s a popular saying that goes, “Every time you sigh, you lose a piece of your soul.” If that’s true, then Katara probably won’t have any soul <em>left</em> by day’s end. Is a little bit of tact really too much to ask for?</p><p>“Huh.” Sokka shakes out a long bolt of fabric and holds it up for inspection. It’s ruby red and shines like, well, silk. “What the heck are we supposed to do with this?”</p><p>Actually, that’s a pretty good question. This is, after all, the South Pole. What use do they have for silks?</p><p>“You don’t like it?”</p><p>Katara successfully bites back a yelp, Sokka and Suki do not, the bolt of silk goes rolling across the floor, and all three of them swivel to face Zuko, who managed to sneak up behind them without any of them noticing. When did he even get here? The last Katara saw him, he’d been deep in conversation with her father and flanked on either side by Uncle Iroh and Minister Ubon.</p><p>Sokka gives himself a shake and rises to his feet, dusting off his clothes with broad sweeps of his hands. “Zuko, I swear, one of these days I’m just gonna straight-up put a bell on you.”</p><p>Zuko’s upper lip curls into a faint but unmistakable sneer. “I’d like to see you try,” he says, voice crackling with challenge, but his expression softens slightly when he looks at Katara, even if the challenge does not. “What’s wrong with the silks?”</p><p>Oh, no. How to put this in a diplomatic way—more importantly, how to put it in a way that won’t wound his pride or hurt his feelings? “Nothing’s wrong with them,” Katara says, feeling a bit like she’s treading on very thin ice. “It’s just…what exactly are we supposed to do with them?”</p><p>“Sell them,” Zuko says, like it ought to be obvious. “Trade them. Do whatever you want with them, but at least half of what we’ve brought you today is meant to help jumpstart the South’s economy.”</p><p>Well, now she feels kind of stupid. So does Sokka—she can tell—but he’s quick to try and cover it up.</p><p>“Right.” Sokka scratches the underside of his chin and sniffs. “I knew that.”</p><p>Zuko folds his arms over his chest and fixes Sokka with a withering glare. “Did you really think that I expected you all to traipse around the South Pole in <em>silks</em>? Exactly how stupid do you think I am?”</p><p>Sokka bites down on the inside of his cheek, and Katara knows, just <em>knows</em>, that it’s taking every ounce of willpower he’s got not to fire back with “Pretty stupid.” She has to admire his restraint, but she can’t trust that it’ll last. Not when Zuko’s always been so easy to needle.</p><p>“Did you handpick all of these yourself, Zuko?” Katara blurts. Her voice cracks like a twelve-year-old boy’s when she says it, and Zuko frowns. She can practically <em>hear </em>him demanding to know what in Agni’s name is wrong with her.</p><p>“Uh, no. I mean, yes, I oversaw the selection process, but I had some help. From Uncle, mostly.” Zuko uncrosses his arms and scrubs at the nape of his neck, body language shifting from authoritative to uncertain in the blink of an eye. “Actually, Katara, there was something I wanted to show you.”</p><p>Katara stares at Zuko. Sokka and Suki stare at <em>her</em>. “Show…me?”</p><p>“Yes. If you’ll follow me?”</p><p>“Sure,” Katara says, and it seems like Zuko’s striding off before the word’s finished leaving her mouth. She half expects him to leave a smoke trail behind, he moves so fast.</p><p>Sokka looks confused, Suki’s grinning a grin so delighted it’s edging toward <em>demented</em>, and Katara—Katara should probably catch up with Zuko before she loses him in the crowd. Not that there’s much chance of that happening, between his height and the crown on his head, but Suki’s weirding her out and she wants an excuse to leave, anyway.</p><p>She doesn’t lose him; she finds him on the other side of the towering pile of gifts, cradling a small rectangular chest in his hands. It looks very old, and the carvings on the lid make her pull up short.</p><p>Because she recognizes them. Because they’re distinctly and unmistakably Water Tribe in origin.</p><p>“This is for you,” Zuko tells her. His posture’s as stiff as his high Fire Nation collar, but his eyes are gleaming with vulnerability. Whatever it is, he really, really wants her to like it. “Well. Sort of.”</p><p><em>Sort of?</em> “Can I see?”</p><p>Zuko opens his mouth, then shuts it. He glances around, then decides, “Not here. Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”</p><p>Okay, now she’s <em>really</em> curious. “How about my dad’s office?”</p><p>Zuko nods. “Will you show me the way?”</p><p>“Oh, um. Yeah. Of course.” Katara turns on her heel and starts weaving through the crowd, and even though she can’t hear Zuko following her—even though he’s every bit as quiet now as he was when he snuck up on her and the others a moment ago—she doesn’t check to make sure that he is. She doesn’t have to, because people keep looking at them.</p><p>So it’s a relief, really, to turn down an empty hallway and retreat to the privacy of her father’s new office. All the open staring was making her itch.</p><p>Although being alone with Zuko is kind of making her itch, too, now that she thinks about it. He makes her feel clumsy and awkward and out of step, like she doesn’t quite remember how to be friends with him. They’ve been exchanging letters pretty consistently over the past few months, but the written word has a different rhythm to it than the spoken one, and a piece of paper can’t make her tongue thicken in her mouth with a look.</p><p>She needs to <em>get it together</em>.</p><p>Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Zuko sets the chest down on her father’s desk, slides back the lid, and lifts something out of it with careful, almost reverent hands. He holds it out to her like the gift it is, and for a moment, all she can do is stare.</p><p>It’s a scroll, bound with a leather strip and worn yellow with age. Katara looks at it, and feels the fine hairs on the nape of her neck stand up.</p><p>“Here,” is all Zuko says.</p><p>Katara takes it, holding it far away from her face like it’s a two-headed rat viper rearing to strike. The parchment feels as old as it looks, and she worries that it might crumble to dust in her hands. She unties the leather strip, unravels the scroll, and states the obvious.</p><p>“It’s a waterbending scroll.”</p><p>“Not just any waterbending scroll.” The contained excitement in Zuko’s voice draws Katara’s eyes to his face, and she finds him smiling wide enough to flash teeth. He taps a light finger against the scroll, careful not to damage it. “This scroll and all the others contain instructions on waterbending forms in the Southern style. When I found them in the palace archives, I knew I had to bring them to you.”</p><p>She rolls the scroll back up and binds it shut with thick, clumsy fingers. Her heart’s pounding so hard she can feel it in her ears. “Others?” she echoes, then shakes her head. “But how—?”</p><p>Zuko’s smile folds like a paper crane, and he sounds almost embarrassed when he says, haltingly, “As far as I can tell, they were—they were looted by Fire Nation soldiers during a raid. I’m not sure which one. But these scrolls are a hundred years old, at least.”</p><p>No. Not embarrassed. Ashamed. “And you wanted to give them back to me.”</p><p>Zuko’s cheek turns pink, and when Katara hears a faint scraping sound, she looks down just in time to catch him shuffling his feet. Then he clears his throat, and her chin jerks up like somebody tugged it on an invisible string.</p><p>“Not just you. I mean—it’s true that I thought you’d be happy to get them back, but Master Pakku, he’s—he’s opened a waterbending school down here, hasn’t he? I think you mentioned that in one of your letters?”</p><p>Katara nods. Her pulse hasn’t slowed at all; if anything, it’s drumming faster. “Yeah, um—yes. I did. I did mention that.”</p><p>“And you’re, ah—assisting him?”</p><p>She nods, again. She’s starting to feel a bit silly, but she can’t seem to control her own movements. Some bender she is. “I am.”</p><p>“Uh-huh. Right.” The pink in Zuko’s cheek deepens to red, contrasting starkly with the thick white fur that lines his parka’s collar. Katara imagines that she can sense the blood thrumming just beneath the surface of his skin, and she scrubs her tingling fingers against her thigh as though to banish the feeling. “I was going to bring them back here anyway, but I thought—maybe the two of you could use these as teaching tools? That way the Southern style of waterbending won’t die out—”</p><p>Katara flings herself at him, and the rest of what he was going to say cuts out with a huff as he staggers back a step but doesn’t fall. His fluffy white collar’s as soft as it looks, tickling at her cheeks and smelling faintly of ash. He’s the warmest thing she’s felt since the last time she sat close to a firepit.</p><p>That shouldn’t surprise her—he’s a firebender; she <em>knows</em> that he’s a firebender; it was one of the very <em>first</em> things she knew about him—but she hasn’t been this close to him in months, and the slow seep of warmth catches her off guard. It makes her shudder, faintly, the way she does when she slips into a hot bath after a long day of hard work and bitter cold, and there’s a very small but very loud part of her that just wants to skip the next four days of the peace summit in favor of staying curled up in Zuko’s arms, soaking up his heat.</p><p>The thought makes her draw away with a frown, before Zuko gets a chance to hug her back. He’s holding out his arms like he was about to, fingers curled to grip the air. Katara clutches the waterbending scroll to her heart—her heart, which is still beating too fast—and smiles at him shyly.</p><p>“Thank you, Zuko.”</p><p>His forehead pinches. Slowly, he folds his arms over his chest, fists pressed against his biceps. “What are you thanking me for?”</p><p>Katara gestures to the chest of scrolls, and Zuko’s frown grows steeper.</p><p>“You shouldn’t thank me for returning what’s rightfully yours. This is the least of what I want to do.”</p><p>He sounds almost offended, so Katara does her best to tame her smile before it can burst across her face and offend him even further.</p><p>“You’re right,” she says. Her mouth is a straight, solemn line, but she can feel her eyes crinkling at the corners. She hasn’t felt this giddy since—since she can’t<em> remember</em> when. “Still, this is pretty exciting. Imagine what I—um, what we could learn from these.”</p><p>Zuko pinches his lips together—almost as if he’s trying to hide a smile of his own. “I’m glad you like them.”</p><p>“I do.” She clears her throat, then plants her feet when she finds herself wanting to do some awkward shuffling of her own. “I know you told me not to thank you, but—this means a lot to me, Zuko. It—it means everything.”</p><p>Zuko’s pinched lips soften even as the look in his eyes gets sharper, more attentive. It makes Katara feel every bit as weird as Suki’s manic grin had, but in a different sort of way. They’re standing much too close together—they must be, because even though they’re no longer touching, the heat coming off of him is making her sweat right through her parka.</p><p>She shuffles back a step, after all, and returns the scroll to its chest before she can sweat all over it, too. They ought to be getting back soon, before someone comes looking for them, but as weird as Zuko’s making her feel right now, she finds herself reluctant to leave him.</p><p>“So, uh.” She boosts herself up onto her dad’s desk and idly kicks her feet. “How did your ministers feel about you giving these back to us, anyway?”</p><p>Zuko doesn’t sit on the desk—that kind of thing is probably beneath his dignity as the Fire Lord—but he does lean a hip against it when he turns to face her. It’s built from imported Earth Kingdom wood, made especially for her father. Zuko probably has one just like it.</p><p>“How they feel about it doesn’t matter. The scrolls belong to you and your people.”</p><p>Well, he’s right about that, but <em>somebody</em> had to’ve made a big stink about it, because somebody always does. In this particular instance, she can even guess who. </p><p>“That woman—Minister Ubon, I think her name was? What’s she the minister of, again?”</p><p>Zuko’s eyebrow swings up. “Weren’t you briefed on this?”</p><p>Her cheeks sting at the implication of unprofessionalism, and it puts her on the defensive, makes her straighten up and scowl directly into his face. “I was. But it was all very last minute and there were a lot of names to memorize, and I’m really—”</p><p><em>Stressed out</em>. She doesn’t finish her sentence, not so much running out of steam as stumbling to an abrupt halt. What right does <em>she</em> have to talk about being stressed out when it’s up to Zuko to run an entire country in the aftermath of a global, hundred-year war?</p><p>There it is again—that attentive look. Katara really wishes he would blink or something, but at least he doesn't press her. “Ubon is the minister of foreign affairs.”</p><p>She can’t think of a diplomatic response to that, so she doesn’t say anything at all—but her silence must speak for itself, because Zuko’s lips jerk up at the corners like he wants to laugh.</p><p>“Yeah,” he says. “I know. But she really isn’t all that bad once you get to know her. Promise.”</p><p>If anyone but Zuko had stuck up for Ubon, Katara probably wouldn’t have taken them at their word. But this <em>is</em> Zuko—Zuko, who is intimately acquainted with what <em>does</em> constitute <em>that bad</em>. If he’s willing to give Ubon the benefit of the doubt, then so is Katara. Grudgingly.</p><p>But if Ubon doesn’t qualify as that bad, then who and what does? Redeeming his nation in the eyes of the world falls squarely on Zuko’s shoulders, and even with Iroh at his side to help, that’s no small task. He has to be exhausted to the core.</p><p>He<em> looks</em> exhausted, Katara realizes with a start. His face was always lean and sharp, but now it looks <em>gaunt</em>, and the thin, fair skin beneath his good eye appears bruised. Katara squashes the impulse to brush her thumb across it and fists her hands against her thighs.</p><p>“How are you, Zuko?”</p><p>Of all the questions she could’ve asked, she thinks that might just be the one he hadn’t seen coming. “I’m…fine?”</p><p>Katara tilts her head to one side and squints. “Are you?”  </p><p>Oh, my. He hasn’t glared at her quite this fiercely since they were on opposite sides of the war. He leans in a little closer like he doesn’t want her to miss it, his breath fluttering hotly across her chin when he says, through his teeth, “I just said so, didn’t I?”</p><p>Katara doesn't back down. She folds her hands in her lap and says, primly, “I guess I’m not the only one around here who’s bad at lying." </p><p>“I’m not—”</p><p>“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you two.”</p><p>Katara tears her eyes away from Zuko with a start, heart sticking to her ribs. Sokka’s standing just outside the door to their dad’s office, hands braced on his hips, eyebrows arching toward his hairline. He measures the distance between Zuko and Katara with his eyes, and his brows arch higher.</p><p>Katara has no reason whatsoever to feel guilty, but she’s still quick to hop down from the desk and smooth out her clothes. “Hey. Did you need something?”</p><p>The look on Sokka’s face promises that she hasn’t heard the last of this, but he just says, “It’s getting pretty late, and I’m starving. I was gonna ask His Fire Lordiness if he'd condescend to join us commonfolk for dinner.”</p><p>Zuko’s good eye twitches, but his tone is nothing but polite when he says, “I wouldn’t want to impose.”</p><p>Sokka waves a dismissive hand. “<em>Pfft</em>, who’s imposing? Our house is your house. No, for real, as long as you’re here, it really is your house.”</p><p>“It…is?”</p><p>“Well, yeah. What, did you think we were gonna make you camp out in Dad’s office or something?”</p><p>Zuko hesitates, and Katara glances at him sidelong. The thought of him sleeping where she sleeps makes her guts squirm—which is stupid, really, because it’s not like she didn’t camp out with him and the others in the weeks leading up to Sozin’s Comet, and this is basically the same thing—but they decided as a family that the Fire Lord deserved the best accommodations they had, and the best they had was the chief’s hut. She’s not about to kick up a fuss over something she already agreed to, and besides, it’s just Zuko.</p><p>“Uncle Iroh’s welcome too, of course.” She smiles, and it’s only a little bit stilted. <em>Just Zuko</em>, she reminds herself. Just Zuko. “Sorry it’s not a palace.”</p><p>Zuko watches her silently for a moment, then begins to smirk. “That’s fine by me. I’m starting to get sick of palaces, anyway.”  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Something I want to illustrate through my fic is that, out of everyone in the Gaang, Zuko finds Sokka the Most annoying. Like, they're best friends, and Zuko would die for him, probably, but he spends a great deal of their time together lowkey wanting to hit him. Just. Straight-up pop him in the mouth. Because they're as good as brothers at this point, and that's just how siblings Are.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Katara’s honest, and she usually is, <em>Harbor City</em>’s a bit of a misnomer. Oh, there’s a harbor, alright, and the coastal settlement that overlooks its slate-gray waters is a far cry from the dwindling clutch of huts and tents that their community had been whittled down to by the war’s end, but she doesn’t think they’ve earned the <em>city</em> part just yet. Were it a proper city, it would’ve taken her longer to reach the outskirts.</p><p>As it is, the pale winter sun has just barely breached the horizon by the time she arrives at the tundra’s edge and settles in to wait. She hugs her arms to her chest and faces North, trying not to count down the seconds in her head as the shadows to her right grow longer and longer, stretching spindly black fingers across the morning’s untouched fall of snow.</p><p>Aang was supposed to be here before the sun rose.</p><p>Footsteps approach from the South, crunching lightly through the snow, but Katara doesn’t turn around even when a hand brushes her shoulder. “How long have you been out here for?”</p><p>Katara shrugs, and Suki takes her hand off her shoulder to grip her katana’s hilt. “Since a little after the sun rose,” says Katara. “Why?”</p><p>Suki checks the position of the sun. “So over half an hour.”</p><p>Has it been that long? Guess she managed not to count the seconds, after all. “Aang’s late.”</p><p>“He was supposed to fly in this morning, right? It’s still early.”</p><p>Katara nods but doesn’t say anything, and Suki sighs through her nose. “You have to stop worrying about things that haven’t happened yet. You’ll make yourself sick otherwise.”</p><p>Katara makes an unhappy noise and tugs on her braid. “I know, it’s just—” She finally tears her eyes away from the empty horizon to frown at Suki. “It just feels like everything that can go wrong, <em>is</em> going wrong.”</p><p>Suki returns Katara’s frown. “What do you mean by that? Nothing<em> has</em> gone wrong. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me about?”</p><p>Katara lets go of her braid and gestures in the direction of the harbor. “Did you forget about the incident at the docks? If Pakku hadn’t stepped in when he did, Sokka and I would’ve been done for.”</p><p>Suki’s eyes turn up and to the side in remembrance, and she gives a thoughtful hum. “I think you would’ve been just fine. You have the makings of a great leader, Katara. So does Sokka.”</p><p>Coming from Suki, that’s quite the compliment, indeed. If only Katara believed it. “Minister Ubon hates us. The Fire Nation’s <em>minister of foreign affairs</em> hates us. Tell me that isn’t a diplomatic disaster just waiting to happen.”</p><p>Suki purses her lips. “Hate’s a strong word,” she says, and Katara scoffs. “No, listen, I really don’t think she hates you. Some people just have chips on their shoulders, and I think Minister Ubon’s one of them. Everything could’ve gone off without a hitch, and she still would’ve found something to complain about.”</p><p>Katara faces the Northern horizon again, but no flying bison have appeared on its cusp since she started talking to Suki. The anxious clutch around her heart squeezes tighter.</p><p>“If Aang’s late,” Katara says, “people are gonna do a whole lot worse than <em>complain</em>.” Like refuse to hold the peace summit at all without him there to mediate—or worse, insist that it go on without him. Either way, everyone loses.</p><p>“He’s not late. You just worry about him too much.” Katara shoots Suki a glare, but her friend just shrugs, unrepentant. “What? You do.”</p><p>Katara hugs her arms closer to herself and wishes she were hugging Aang, instead. Aang always gives the best hugs, even if those hugs have gotten a lot more awkward since their breakup. “Do you think he’s alright?”</p><p>“Yes,” Suki says without a second’s hesitation, and Katara can tell that she’s not just saying it to make her feel better. She really, truly believes it. “I do. Aang’s a big boy, Katara. He can take care of himself.”</p><p><em>So stop fussing</em>. Suki doesn’t say it, but Katara hears it anyway, and it puts her on the defensive. “Of course he can take care of himself. He’s the Avatar.”</p><p>Right. He<em> is</em> the Avatar, first and foremost. But he’s still a kid, and like she told Zuko before, he has a penchant for attracting trouble.</p><p>Suki’s gloved hand closes around hers. “Everything’s gonna be fine, Katara.”</p><p>People keep telling her that. “You sound like Zuko.”</p><p>“Hmm. Do I?” A sly smile tugs at Suki’s painted lips. “Well, then I guess you’ve <em>got</em> to believe me.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”</p><p>Suki releases Katara’s hand and shrugs. “Because it’s Zuko, and Zuko doesn’t lie. Especially not to you.”</p><p>Katara wishes, abruptly, that she’d worn her hair loose today; that way she’d have something to hide behind. “Only because he knows that I’d kick his butt if he tried.”</p><p>“Oh, definitely,” says Suki, but Katara can tell when she's being humored. That’s extremely annoying, but what exactly is she going to do about it? Kick <em>Suki’s</em> butt? Like she’d make it out of that one with her pride intact.</p><p>Thankfully, Suki changes the subject before Katara can finish weighing the risk-reward ratio of bending a snowball at her head. “We ought to be heading back soon. Waiting around out here won’t make Aang show up any faster. A watched pot never boils, right?”</p><p>“Not unless you’re a firebender,” Katara jokes, but her own pathetic stab at humor does little to make her feel better. She brings a hand to her mouth and bites down on her knuckle, barely able to feel the sting through the thick insulation of her mitten. “Okay, but. For argument’s sake. What do you think will happen if he <em>doesn’t</em> show up on time?”</p><p>“Well, the world won’t end, for starters.” Katara makes a face, and Suki laughs quietly. “What? It won’t. You of all people should know the difference.”</p><p>Yeah. Katara supposes that she should. “If Aang’s late,<em> somebody’s</em> gonna pitch a fit about it. That’s a guarantee.”</p><p>“Somebody always pitches a fit. That’s just politics.”</p><p>Suki’s right. And as the only daughter of Chief Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe, Katara will just have to get used to it.</p><p>She draws herself up to her full height. “You’re right. I can do this.” Maybe if she says it aloud enough times, she’ll even start to believe it.</p><p>Suki’s eyes, thrown into sharp relief by the strokes of black kohl that frame them, crease with her smile. “That’s the spirit.” She turns on her heel and gestures for Katara to follow. “C’mon. Whether Aang gets here on time or not, <em>you</em> don’t wanna be late, do you?”</p><p>No, that definitely wouldn’t reflect well on her—more importantly, it wouldn’t reflect well on her family and her tribe. “Coming,” Katara says, and jogs to catch up. She doesn’t throw an anxious parting glance over her shoulder, either, but only because she can feel Suki watching her closely.</p><p>She has to stop dwelling on things that haven’t happened yet. Like Suki said, even if Aang<em> is</em> late, it won’t spell the end of the world. What’s the worst that could happen?</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>By Katara’s estimation, it’s been roughly two hours since she asked herself that question, and in that relatively short time span, it seems like the universe has gone out of its gleeful way to provide her with a surplus of answers.</p><p>She must have jinxed it. There’s no other viable explanation for this.</p><p>“Respectfully, Lord Zuko, the peace summit simply cannot continue without the Avatar’s oversight.”</p><p>“And why is that, Minister Ubon? Do you think us rowdy children, incapable of resolving our own disputes?”</p><p>“Pardon me, Elder Gilak, but I do not recall addressing my legitimate concerns to <em>you</em>.”</p><p>Katara, whose legs are growing numb from kneeling in place for so long, clenches her hands in her lap and fights to control her face even as Gilak and Ubon chip steadily away at her finite supply of patience. The fact that Sokka won’t stop drumming his fingers against the table helps matters not at all, but there’s no way to stop him from doing it that won’t end in a shoving match.</p><p>She almost wishes that the Fire Nation delegates and Water Tribe elders would start shoving at <em>each other</em>, because at least then they’d have something concrete to show for all their bickering. They’ve been arguing back and forth for over half an hour without any progress; whenever someone insists that they cannot hold the peace summit without Aang, someone else will contest that they have much to discuss in a very limited amount of time, and that they can’t wait for Aang forever. From there, yet <em>another</em> person will inevitably point out that all the time in the world won’t do any of them a bit of good without a neutral third party to keep them all in check, and the argument will cycle back to the beginning in a seemingly infinite loop.</p><p>Katara represses the urge to massage her throbbing temples. <em>Where are you, Aang?</em></p><p>Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose; that he’s allowing himself to display any sign of strain at all speaks to just how frustrated he must be. Katara experiences a pang of empathy; if she could, she’d reach across the table and press his hand with hers. She wants to, but she can’t.</p><p>“Minister Ubon. Esteemed Elder Gilak.” Zuko speaks quietly, so quietly that Katara might not have noticed at all if she hadn’t seen his mouth move, but the buzz of overlapping voices gradually fades nonetheless. It seems he’s mastered the trick of silencing a room without having to raise his voice, and Katara wonders if he learned that from Iroh. “As we are in the <em>Southern Water Tribe</em>, I believe it falls to the local head of state to settle this matter.”</p><p>Zuko drops his hand and folds it over the other on top of the table. For the most part, his eyes stay steady on Katara’s father, but she doesn’t think she’s imagining it, either, when they seem to flick briefly to her. “Chief Hakoda. What do you want to do about this? Should we wait for Avatar Aang, or would you like to proceed as planned?”</p><p>Hakoda’s eyebrows don’t so much as twitch, but he can’t fool Katara. She knows that he’s gratified by Zuko’s choice to defer to his authority. She can also tell that quite a few people on Zuko’s side of the long table aren’t nearly as pleased by this turn of events as her father.</p><p>Hakoda strokes his chin in thought. “I’ve been thinking that over, Lord Zuko, and I believe that delaying the peace summit until Avatar Aang arrives may be in everyone’s best interests. And you?”</p><p>“I think that would be for the best as well.”</p><p>“I also think that would be wise,” says Iroh, speaking up for the first time in a long time. He folds his hands into his sleeves and smiles at them placidly, but there’s a shrewd glint in his eyes. “After all, we have three days yet before we must depart. Surely that will be time enough.”</p><p>Katara refrains from pointing out that, technically, they only have<em> two</em> full days left before the Fire Nation delegates must once again sail North, because the third day falls on the winter solstice, and between the planned festivities and the Fire Nation contingent’s preparations for departure, she very much doubts that they’ll be getting much done in the way of diplomacy.</p><p>She must not be the only one thinking along those lines, because Hai, the Fire Nation minister of commerce, fidgets very slightly and clears his throat for their attention. “Respectfully, General Iroh, quite a few of the negotiations we would like to pursue are time sensitive and—”</p><p>“Eager to claim our waters for your own, are you?” Gilak asks before Hai can finish his sentence. Hai, who isn’t much bigger than Katara herself, puffs up like a frog.</p><p>“What exactly are you implying, Elder Gilak?”</p><p>“I imply nothing. We all know the real reason you’ve come here, Minister Hai. You want to dirty our ocean with your steam-powered ships and cut through our trade routes—”</p><p>“You say that as if such an arrangement wouldn’t be mutually beneficial!”</p><p>“Mutually beneficial? In what way?”</p><p>Minister Hai puffs up even further, nostrils flaring wide. “Our nation has already demonstrated the material ways in which it can benefit yours, Elder Gilak, and our only wish in coming here is to further cement our nascent relationship.”</p><p>Hai’s phrasing strikes Katara as odd, enough so that she dares to come between him and Gilak when they both look ready to charge.</p><p>“Excuse me,” she says, but it seems that <em>she</em> hasn’t quite mastered silencing a room without raising her voice, so she tries again. “<em>Excuse me</em>.”</p><p>Hai’s the first one to look at her, but Gilak and the others soon follow. The attention’s a bit unnerving, but Katara doesn’t shrink under it. She refuses to. “Excuse me, Minister Hai, but what did you mean by that?”</p><p>Hai’s bushy gray eyebrows pull together. “What did I mean by <em>what</em>, my dear?”</p><p>Katara bristles at Hai’s overfamiliarity, and her voice comes out frostier than she meant it to when she says, “What did you mean when you said that the Fire Nation wanted to further cement its relationship with the Southern Water Tribe?”</p><p>Hai’s lips part, but at first, no sound comes out—and when he does finally speak, his tone is tinged with incredulity. “Why, through an offer of marriage, of course.”</p><p>The table goes silent in the way of mornings after a heavy fall of snow, and Katara has no idea why. Arranged marriages are rare in the South, but they aren’t unheard of, even if the particular custom of carving a betrothal necklace for one’s future wife is exclusive to the Northern tribe. And tying two countries together through marriage in times of peace is commonplace throughout the world. Really, now that she thinks about it, an offer like this one was bound to crop up eventually.</p><p>“I see,” says Katara. “If you don’t mind my asking, Minister Hai, who would be getting married, exactly?”</p><p>In her periphery, she can see Sokka shaking his head at her and making indiscreet slashing motions across his throat, but it’s too late. The words are already out of her mouth, hanging in the air like her breath of ice, and Minister Hai is looking at her like she just told the funniest joke he’s heard all year.</p><p>“As head of state,” Hai says, his carefully neutral tone at direct odds with the mirth glittering in his eyes, “Fire Lord Zuko must marry a woman of similar noble lineage. Anything less would be an affront to His Highness’s royal bloodline.”</p><p>Zuko? Katara gapes across the table at him and finds that he looks every bit as stunned as she feels. They want to marry <em>Zuko</em> off to a member of the Southern Water Tribe? But that doesn’t make any sense; the South doesn’t have any royalty—</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>She said that out loud.</p><p>Her stomach sinks. </p><p>
  <em>Oh, no. </em>
</p><p>Gilak is the first to break the thunderous silence that follows Hai’s proclamation, speaking in a voice like cracking ice. “Absolutely not.”</p><p>“That isn’t your decision to make, Gilak.” Kanna says it mildly, but Katara knows her grandmother, and if <em>Gilak</em> knows what’s good for him, he’ll back down.</p><p>Apparently, he doesn’t. “Would you sell your only granddaughter to the Fire Nation, Kanna?”</p><p>“Hey!” Sokka barks. “That’s my sister you’re talking about!”</p><p>Kanna and Gilak both ignore him.</p><p>“Would you presume to speak for my family, Gilak?”</p><p>“I speak for the tribe!”</p><p>“Perhaps you should allow the tribe to speak for itself,” Pakku suggests, his tone every bit as mild as Kanna’s, and Gilak fixes him with a hateful look. </p><p>“You! You have no say here, you Northern—”</p><p>“<em>Enough</em>.”</p><p>Hakoda doesn’t speak quietly, as Zuko had; no, his voice rumbles deep in his chest and bounces off the high ceiling like echoing thunder, and although Katara's father has never once given her reason to fear him, she can’t help but be grateful that Sokka’s sitting between them when she sees the look in his eyes, a look that he’s quick to turn on Zuko.</p><p>“Fire Lord Zuko. What is the meaning of this?”</p><p>Zuko, to his credit, does not flinch. “I apologize, Chief Hakoda. My ministers and I discussed the possibility of a political marriage before coming here, but we ultimately decided that now was not the time to make such a proposal. Clearly some among our number disagreed.”</p><p>He narrows his eyes at Minister Hai when he says it, and the minister pales, shrinking in on himself as though trying to become one with the cushion upon which he sits. He's just lucky, Katara thinks, that Zuko is nothing like Ozai. </p><p>The glare slides off of Zuko’s face, respect taking its place, when he inclines his head at Hakoda. “Nevertheless, I take full responsibility for my minister's breach in protocol. Please forgive me.”</p><p>Hakoda remains silent for a long, tense moment, and Katara’s getting ready to jump in and petition on Zuko's behalf when he finally bows his head in turn. “Apology accepted, Lord Zuko.”</p><p>Iroh clears his throat. “If I may be so bold, I believe that now would be a good time to break for lunch. Little can be accomplished on an empty stomach, least of all with tensions running so high.”</p><p>Hakoda’s mouth quirks up at the corners. “I believe you’re right, General Iroh. Fire Lord Zuko?”</p><p>“As always, I defer to my uncle’s wisdom in these matters.”</p><p><em>As always</em>, huh? Katara must not be the only one who’s aware of the irony, because Iroh coughs into his fist, smiling serenely at Zuko when his nephew shoots him a glare.</p><p>As for Katara, as soon as she has permission to leave, she <em>goes</em>, ignoring Sokka when he calls her name and all but bolting from the table in her haste to get away. The second she’s outside, she pauses to gulp at the air like a landed fish, then keeps going, breaking into a half jog.</p><p>It’s just her luck that Zuko’s always been scarily competent at tracking people down.</p><p>“Katara.” Her shoulders hunch up around her ears when she hears his raspy voice, and she jogs faster. “Katara!”</p><p>She could turn the snow to ice and take his feet out from under him. Her family would never let her hear the end of it, but she could. It’d serve him right.</p><p>She doesn’t do it.</p><p>Gradually, she slows, then stops, but only because she’s getting a stitch in her side. She’s at the outskirts of the village again. Zuko chased her all the way to the edge of the tundra.</p><p>Like she had this morning, she hugs her arms to her body and focuses on the empty Northern horizon. She doesn’t look at Zuko, but she can see him in her periphery, a blur of red clothing and black hair. He stands out around here like a bloodstain on the snow.</p><p>“What do you want.”</p><p>Zuko crosses his arms. “I can tell you what I don’t want.”</p><p>She doesn’t prompt him. He keeps going anyway. “And what I don’t want is for you to get angry with me before I’ve had a chance to explain myself.”</p><p>“What’s there to explain?” The wind is especially biting today, but it does little to cool the flush boiling beneath her skin. It just makes her feel raw. “Your ministers wanted to marry us off, and you told them no. I was there too, you know. I’ve heard it already.”</p><p>Zuko makes a frustrated noise that Katara can barely hear over the whip of the wind. “Then why are you angry with me?”</p><p>“Who’s angry?” Katara stomps her feet for warmth. “I’m not angry.”</p><p>“Don’t lie to me. I know how you look when you’re angry better than anyone.”</p><p>Oh, that does it. How dare he presume to know her so well when he clearly <em>doesn’t</em>, because if he <em>did</em>, he would’ve known that she’d have appreciated a little <em>warning</em>.</p><p>She finally looks at him head on, rounding on him with such vehemence that her braid whips over her shoulder. He doesn’t step back, but his shoulders jerk like he wants to. He frowns down at her, and she glares up at him.</p><p>“So what if I’m angry? Can you blame me? You didn’t even warn me, Zuko! And don’t act like you didn’t have plenty of chances to do it, because you <em>did</em>.”</p><p>“I didn’t think I’d have to. My ministers proposed the idea, and I vetoed it. I didn’t expect Hai to circumvent me like that.”</p><p>Katara wants to stay angry with him. Oh, she wants to so bad—but he isn’t making it easy on her, and she’s already deflating like a war balloon with all the air taken out of it. She tucks her hands into the crooks of her elbows—she forgot to put her mittens on before running out here—and frowns down at the trenches their feet have made in the snow.</p><p>“You realize that that doesn’t reflect well on you, right?”</p><p>“Oh,” Zuko says grimly, “I’m well aware.”</p><p>Katara almost—<em>almost</em>—feels sorry for Hai. “You need to control your ministers.”</p><p>“I’m trying,” Zuko says quietly, and with that, the last of Katara’s anger drains away. She’s still mad, but not at him.  </p><p>Because she knows how hard he tries at everything he does. She <em>knows</em>. She knows that that wasn’t an empty statement.</p><p>“I don’t—” She swallows tightly and keeps her eyes trained on their feet. “It’s not that I think being married to you would be the worst thing in the world. I mean, at least we’re already friends, right? That’s more than most people who get married for political reasons can say.” </p><p>“It is,” Zuko says. He’s gotten better at hiding what he’s feeling, but something in his voice makes Katara blush harder. “I don’t think that being married to you would be the worst thing, either.”</p><p>Funny how backhanded that compliment sounds when she’s on the receiving end of it. “It’s just…we don’t really do arranged marriages down here. I mean, they aren’t unheard of, but they’re pretty rare. And even if they weren’t, I’m only fifteen, and I don’t think I’d want to get married to cement a political alliance, anyway. Is that—do you think that’s selfish of me?”</p><p>She glances up at Zuko from under her lashes; he’s not hiding behind the mask of the Fire Lord any longer, and the look on his face is open and thoughtful. He’s really considering her question, and that makes her feel better than if he’d simply told her what she wanted to hear.</p><p>“Maybe a little,” he decides. That should probably make her feel bad, but coming from Zuko, somehow it doesn’t. “But after everything you’ve done for the world, I think you’ve earned the right to be a little selfish now and again.”</p><p>Katara’s blush deepens, and she hopes that Zuko chalks the red in her cheeks up to the wind that’s still lashing at their faces. “I haven’t done that much. I’m not Aang.”</p><p>“Aang’s the Avatar,” Zuko says, as if Katara could ever forget. “It’s his job to bring balance to the world. You <em>chose</em> to help him. There’s a difference.”  </p><p>Katara frowns. “Are you saying that what Aang did for us all has less meaning because it was his <em>job</em> to do it?”</p><p>“I—no. Agni, Katara, don’t twist my words around. I get enough of that from my own people.” Zuko blows out a breath that smells like smoke. “I’m trying to compliment you.”</p><p>“Oh.” Katara ducks her head and kicks at the snow. “Um. Thank you.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.” Zuko’s silent for a moment, then says, “I kind of envy you, actually.”</p><p>Katara raises her head, but Zuko’s looking off to one side now, toward the Northern horizon. She wonders if that’s a coincidence. “You do? Why?”</p><p>Zuko smiles slightly. It’s not a happy expression. “Because you get to be selfish.”</p><p>Oh. She understands now. “Even if it’s not to me, you’ll have to get married for political reasons eventually, won’t you?”</p><p>Zuko nods. “I’m the Fire Lord.”</p><p>It’s explanation enough. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be. It’s what I was raised to expect. People in my family don’t get to choose who they marry. If they’re lucky, they fall in love with their spouses over time. If not…”</p><p>Zuko doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t have to. “You said your family was happy once.” Zuko’s good eye twitches, but Katara forges on. “Your parents, were they ever—did they—”</p><p>Zuko bows his head. “I think so,” he says. Then, “I don’t know. It was complicated.”</p><p>“Right,” Katara says, because she can’t think of anything else <em>to</em> say. She chafes her chapped palms against her sleeves, then reaches for her mittens, only for Zuko to cut the motion short by folding his hands around hers.</p><p>Once again, she’s unaccountably startled by how warm he is. She’d hugged him yesterday, but she hadn’t touched his bare skin then, so it’s different. He didn't put his gloves on before leaving Town Hall, either, but his skin’s so hot he probably didn’t need to. As his body heat seeps into Katara's skin and becomes hers, she thinks back to last night, when Zuko and Iroh had slept in her family’s hut. The warmth they’d put off in waves was as good as a roaring fire, and it had sent Katara right to sleep.</p><p>For much of her life, fire stood for death and destruction, but as someone who grew up in the South Pole, Katara's always known that it also stands for safety and security. And now Zuko is holding her hands in his and sharing his warmth like the gift that it is, and she doesn’t want to pull away.</p><p>“I know you don’t feel the same way,” he says, running his thumbs almost absently across her knuckles like he’s not even giving any thought to what he’s doing, “but out of all the people I could marry for my country’s sake, if I had a choice, I’d choose you.”</p><p>Katara’s heart gives a hard, painful thud, like a bird throwing itself against a wall of ice. “Because you already know me, right? Because—because we’re already friends.”</p><p>Zuko’s hands are rough with calluses, but his grip is gentle. She could break it easily if she wanted to. “Right,” he says after what Katara thinks is an unusually long pause.</p><p>Katara’s fingers twitch against his. She looks off the side, off toward the Northern horizon, and blurts, “I’m worried about Aang.”  </p><p>Zuko drops her hands she’s the firebender and her touch burned him. “Agni, Katara, he’s thirteen years old. Exactly when are you going to cut him loose from your apron strings?”</p><p>Katara’s mouth pops open, then clicks back shut. She is, abruptly, too aggravated to feel the cold even without Zuko to warm her up. “<em>Excuse </em>me? Aang isn’t tied to my—to my <em>apron strings</em>!”</p><p>Zuko fists his hands and spreads his feet like he’s bracing himself for attack. “Oh, isn’t he? Then why are you making yourself sick worrying over something that hasn’t even happened yet?”</p><p>It’s almost an exact echo of what Suki said to her earlier, and it takes the wind out of her sails. She drops her defensive stance—she hadn’t even realized she was mirroring Zuko until she stopped—and says, lamely, “It’s just…he’s late.”</p><p>Zuko’s face softens very slightly. “He’s late all the time, Katara. He probably got sidetracked chasing after elephant koi. He’ll be here.”</p><p>“Yeah. You’re probably right.” She’s not just saying that, either; Aang probably <em>did</em> get sidetracked, either by the elephant koi or by somebody who needed his help, because that’s just who he is. He helps people, not because it’s his job, but simply because he wants to.</p><p>Zuko takes her hand in his once more, engulfing her in steady, comforting warmth. “But if something <em>did </em>happen, and you had to go after him, I’d be right there with you. You know that, right?”</p><p>And that, Katara thinks, is just who <em>Zuko</em> is—offering to help shoulder her burdens before she can even think to ask.</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” She musters up a lopsided smirk. “After all, who’s better at tracking down Aang than you?”</p><p>“Very funny,” Zuko says, mouth hiking up at one corner before flattening out again. “I’m sorry for snapping at you before. I was out of line.”</p><p>Katara curls her fingers around his. “You were. But I understand why you did it. Things are kind of…tense around here.”</p><p>“You’re telling me.” Zuko releases her hand, but she doesn’t even have time to feel disappointed, because in the next instant, he’s offering her his arm instead. “May I escort you to lunch, Master Katara?”</p><p>He uses her formal title, but there’s nothing formal about the way he says it. He’s <em>teasing</em> her, and it catches Katara off guard, how delighted that makes her feel. </p><p>“What?” she asks, smiling genuinely now as she curls her hand around the crook of his elbow. As long as she stays close to him, she won’t need her mittens at all. “Do you want to get back before Gilak and Ubon can kill each other for real?”</p><p>Zuko laughs quietly and tugs her along. The sunlight reflects off the snow and turns his eyes as golden as his crown, and Katara goes a little breathless looking at him.</p><p>“Something like that,” he says.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Excuse me, Minister Guo. I hate to interrupt, but I was hoping I could borrow Master Katara for a moment.”  </p>
<p>Minister Guo, who has spent the last <em>fifteen and a half minutes</em> regaling Katara on the minutiae of seasonal tourism patterns to Ember Island, brightens considerably when Zuko appears on Katara’s left. Katara also brightens. Is Zuko here to rescue her? It<em> sounds</em> like he’s here to rescue her.</p>
<p>“Your Highness!” Guo bows enthusiastically—so enthusiastically, in fact, that Katara has to take a measured step back to avoid becoming collateral damage. “Although I am saddened to part company with as bright and vivacious a young woman as Master Katara, I am of course honored to defer to your—”</p>
<p>“Yes, thank you, Minister,” Zuko says, wisely cutting Guo off before another fifteen minutes are lost to one of his tangents. He offers Katara his hand, and if she’s a little<em> too</em> quick to take it, well, it’s only because she’s that eager to get away from Guo. Duh. Obviously.</p>
<p>Guo bows again and says something about the bright future that awaits both their nations with young revolutionaries like Zuko and Katara leading the charge, but Katara’s not really listening anymore, and besides, Zuko’s already leading her away. She waits until they’re well out of Guo’s earshot before shooting Zuko a wry look.</p>
<p>“Well,” she prevaricates, grappling for a diplomatic way to express her feelings. “Minister Guo is certainly—um—”</p>
<p>“It’s okay; you can call him an old windbag. I promise I won’t be offended.”</p>
<p>Katara doesn’t snicker, but Zuko must be able to sense that she <em>wants</em> to, if the smirk on his face is any indication. Just for that, Katara nearly doesn’t thank him for what he did, but in the end, her manners win out.</p>
<p>“Thanks for stepping in back there. I have to say, that was some pretty good timing on your part.”</p>
<p>Zuko shrugs. He’s still holding her hand, but Katara doesn’t think she minds. No, she doesn’t really mind at all. “I thought you could use some help. You were starting to look pretty fed up.”</p>
<p>“My hero,” Katara says, nudging him playfully. “Are you gonna save me from the pirates?”</p>
<p>Zuko shuts his eyes and groans. “Didn’t I already apologize for that?”</p>
<p>Katara hums thoughtfully. And, okay. Maybe she’s enjoying this a <em>little</em> bit too much. “Not for that specifically, I don’t think.”</p>
<p>Zuko tries to pull his hand from hers, but she holds fast. “Would you like me to grovel?” he asks, rather irritably. Katara’s surprised that smoke isn’t coming out of his ears.  </p>
<p>“The idea has its attractions.” Zuko makes a deeply unhappy noise, and Katara relents, running a thumb over his knuckles as if to soothe his ruffled feathers. “Hey, I’m only teasing. I forgave you for everything a long time ago, Zuko, pirates and all. I wouldn’t be able to joke about it otherwise.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Zuko’s voice cracks, and he coughs into his fist, the tips of his ears turning read. “I mean, uh, thanks. For forgiving me, that is. I’m not sure I deserve it, though. I tied those knots pretty tight.”</p>
<p>He’s smirking again, faintly. Katara rolls her eyes and says, “Yeah, I had a rope burn on my wrists for a whole <em>day</em> afterwards. You know me; I’m fragile.”</p>
<p>“Like a porcelain doll,” Zuko agrees, solemn tone at odds with his lingering smirk.</p>
<p>Is this his way of getting back at her? Probably. “Ha, ha. Now, did you really need me for something, Your Highness, or was that just a ploy to save me from Guo?”</p>
<p>Zuko’s smug expression morphs into a genuine smile—and a rather shy one, at that. “No, it wasn’t. Actually, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”</p>
<p>Well, he’s got her attention. “Oh, really? Who?”</p>
<p>By way of answer, Zuko stops walking and gestures to two women who appear to be deep in conversation. Katara immediately identifies the taller of the two as Malina—<em>great</em>—but she doesn’t place the other woman right off. She’s Fire Nation, going by her fair skin and the red dye in her clothes, but it’s not until she lifts her head to smile at Katara and Zuko that Katara recognizes her face.</p>
<p>Katara remembers her, vaguely, from yesterday at the docks. She’s an attractive older woman with a soft, round face and kind brown eyes, and although Katara doesn’t even know her name, she has an air about her that puts her at ease. This person, she thinks, is nothing like Ubon.</p>
<p>“Ambassador.” Zuko lets go of Katara’s hand, and Katara flexes her fingers and tries to keep her disappointment off her face. “I’d like to introduce you to Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. Katara, this is Ambassador Shufen of the Fire Nation. If all goes well, she’ll be staying here with you after the rest of our delegation departs.”</p>
<p><em>If all goes well</em>. By which Zuko means, if people like Gilak don’t pitch a fit over a Fire Nation delegate living on Water Tribe soil. But that’s a headache for another day. For now, Katara smiles politely and bows in the way of the Fire Nation, hand over fist.</p>
<p>“I’m honored to make your acquaintance, Ambassador Shufen.”</p>
<p>Shufen returns both the smile and the gesture, but with all the precise, careful elegance of a woman raised in the lap of privilege. “The honor is mine, Master Katara. Malina here was just telling me about her plans for the Fire Nation embassy.”</p>
<p>Katara feels her smile go stiff. <em>Of course</em> Malina’s already drawing up plans for an embassy that they don’t know for certain they’ll be able to build. Between that and the palace she wants to build for Hakoda, it’s a wonder she ever finds any time to eat and sleep.</p>
<p>
  <em>And you don’t like them.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I never said that.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You didn’t have to.</em>
</p>
<p>Katara frowns at the memory, then forces her mouth back into a smile before Shufen can ask her if there’s something wrong. Oh, she’ll show Zuko. She’s a representative of her tribe, and she doesn’t have to like or even respect someone in order to treat them courteously. She’s an <em>adult</em>, or nearly, so she’s going to<em> act</em> like one.</p>
<p>“Is that so?” Katara asks with as much enthusiasm as she can muster—perhaps a little<em> too</em> much of it, if Malina’s startled look is any indication. “If you don’t mind, Malina, I’d love to hear more about your—uh—plans.”</p>
<p>Zuko pointedly clears his throat, and Katara tamps down the righteous urge to kick him in the shin. <em>Not in front of the Fire Nation ambassador, Katara.</em></p>
<p>“You would?” Malina still looks a little surprised—pleasantly so—and Katara’s insides clench with guilt. Has she been treating Malina that coldly? “I mean, that’s great! Well, the ambassador and I were thinking that a sort of cultural fusion might work best—that is to say, we’d like to combine architectural elements from the Fire Nation and the Southern Water Tribe for both practical and symbolical purposes. Actually, Fire Lord Zuko, I was wondering if I could prick your brain for a bit?”</p>
<p>Zuko blinks. “Pick…my…brain?”</p>
<p>“Yes. You see, I’d love to hear more about the Fire Nation Royal Palace from someone who grew up there. If I could beg a moment of your time?”</p>
<p>“Uh—” Zuko’s eyes flick to Katara, then back to Malina. He draws himself to his full height and straightens his shoulders, the mantle of the Fire Lord falling into place, leaving little trace of Katara’s friend left behind. “Of course. I’d be happy to help. Excuse me, Master Katara, Ambassador Shufen.”</p>
<p>Katara gives Zuko pleading eyes, but he only smiles very slightly as if to assure her that she’ll be fine. She’s not so sure about that.</p>
<p>A cough from her right draws her attention away from Zuko’s retreating figure, and Shufen smiles when Katara turns and meets her eyes. It’s a very gentle smile—in a way, it reminds her of Uncle Iroh’s.</p>
<p>“I realize my company isn’t quite as sought after as the Fire Lord’s, but I do hope that you’ll find me an engaging conversationalist regardless, Master Katara.”</p>
<p>Panic hits Katara like a water whip to the face. Great, just <em>great</em>. She’s already insulted the Fire Nation ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe, and she’s barely spoken two words to her. “Oh, no—I’m sorry, Ambassador. I didn’t mean to offend—”</p>
<p>“No apologies are needed where no offense was taken,” Shufen says equitably, dark eyes sparking with a quiet sort of mischief. Yeah, she definitely reminds Katara of Iroh.</p>
<p>Katara slumps slightly with both relief and embarrassment. “Still, I didn’t mean to imply that I’m not gratified by your company.”</p>
<p>“What a gracious young lady you are—but truly, Master Katara, I take no offense in your preferring the Fire Lord’s companionship to mine. I’m well aware that the two of you are quite close.”</p>
<p>Katara bows her head and grips her right wrist in her left hand. Her palm’s still tingling with the memory of Zuko’s bare skin against hers. “Yes. Close. Of course.”</p>
<p>Shufen tilts her head to one side, calling to mind a curious bird. “But not so close as to be ready to rush to the altar?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Rush to the—? </em>
</p>
<p>Katara chokes on nothing and descends into a coughing fit, and Shufen hovers a hand over her shoulder, looking concerned.</p>
<p>“Oh, my. Are you quite alright, Master Katara? Would you like to sit down?”</p>
<p>“No, no, I’m—” Katara inhales slowly and exhales shakily. Her eyes are watering. “I’m fine.” Yes, perfectly fine—if absolutely humiliated. “I’m sorry, Ambassador, you just—you caught me off guard.”</p>
<p>Shufen bows in apology. “Ah, of course. I realize now that I spoke out of turn. Please forgive me.”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing to forgive.” Katara straightens up and clasps her hands at her waist, hoping that if she looks dignified enough, Shufen will forget all about her seriously <em>un</em>dignified coughing fit. “I know I disappointed a lot of people when I refused to entertain the idea of a political marriage to the Fire Nation. I’m sorry if you were hoping that I’d choose otherwise.”</p>
<p>“There is nothing to forgive,” Shufen says, echoing Katara. Her painted lips turn up at the corners in a gracious noblewoman’s smile. “Actually, Master Katara, I quite admire your choice to stick to your convictions.”</p>
<p>Katara valiantly tries not to gape. “You…do?”</p>
<p>“Indeed. It takes a special kind of courage to follow one’s heart in the face of political and societal pressure.”</p>
<p>Katara ducks her head again, this time to hide her blush. “I wouldn’t say it’s <em>that</em> courageous—I mean, not by my tribe’s standards, anyway. Marrying for love is pretty commonplace around here.”</p>
<p>“So I’ve gathered—but these are unusual circumstances, are they not? It’s not every day that the Fire Nation attempts to marry off its Fire Lord to a Water Tribe princess.”</p>
<p>Katara thinks of Yue, and her heart gives a pang. “I’m no princess,” she says quietly.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you? You may not use royal titles in the South, but your father is the chief of your tribe. That makes you a princess, and your brother a prince.”</p>
<p>“Don’t let him hear you say that. His ego doesn’t need the boost.” Shufen laughs politely, and Katara attempts to steer the conversation away from uncomfortable talk of royal titles. “Thank you for being so understanding, Ambassador. I was afraid I’d offended everyone in the room earlier.”</p>
<p>“Not everyone,” Shufen says diplomatically, and folds her hands into her long, billowing sleeves. “Truthfully, Master Katara, I envy your freedom of choice. A marriage without love is no marriage at all. I only wish that I too had had the luxury of turning down the first man who petitioned my father for my hand.”</p>
<p><em>A marriage without love…? </em>Katara frowns. She understands what Shufen meant, but that’s not quite accurate, is it? Because she <em>does</em> love Zuko. He’s one of her closest friends, and they’ve been through a lot together. Of course she loves him—how could she not?</p>
<p>But she’s getting off track and making herself weirdly uncomfortable in the process. She shoves all thoughts concerning <em>love</em> and <em>Zuko</em> aside and brushes her hand against Shufen’s arm, forgetting protocol as her sympathy for the ambassador rises in her throat like the pressure of held-back tears.</p>
<p>“I’m so sorry, Ambassador. Everyone deserves to marry someone they love.”</p>
<p>Shufen looks at her fondly. “You are an unusually kind person, Master Katara, but please, don’t waste your compassion on me.” She grins, suddenly, showing off two neat rows of brilliantly white teeth. “After all, I outlived the old fart.”</p>
<p>A startled giggle escapes Katara, but before she can backpedal and apologize, Shufen joins in, dark eyes glittering with mirth. Katara allows her laughter free rein, then, and she finds herself hoping that the Southern Water Tribe’s plans to build a Fire Nation embassy will work out in the end.</p>
<p>She’d like Shufen to stay.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s still no sign of Aang and Appa by the time the sun has begun to dip toward the Western horizon, but Katara’s determined to not allow herself to dwell on problems she can’t solve, at least for now. There are still some hours left in the day, and she intends to make good use of them. She tucks the box of waterbending scrolls beneath her arm and sets out for Pakku’s dojo.</p>
<p>She still hasn’t had the chance to practice the forms outlined in these scrolls yet, and she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t want to keep them to herself for a little while longer—but she’s not quite as selfish at fifteen as she was at fourteen. These scrolls belong to the Southern Water Tribe as a whole, and they’re meant to be shared and learned from.</p>
<p>Besides, the kids are sure to get a kick out of them, even if they aren’t far along enough in their training to make use of them yet, and Katara lives for the way their eyes light up whenever she teaches them something new. She hugs the box to her chest and smiles to herself. Yeah. Today didn’t get off to a great start, but her mom always said that there was no such thing as a day not worth salvaging.</p>
<p>She cuts through the marketplace and waves at Ashuna, who’s closing up her cart for the day. Ashuna smiles at her, dimples appearing in her cheeks. </p>
<p>“Hello, Katara. I’ve got some stock left over if you’re hungry. I’d hate to see it go to waste.”</p>
<p>Even if Katara weren’t pleasantly full from lunch, she’d still turn that offer down. She loves Ashuna like her own family, but if there’s one that could prove her mother wrong about there being no such thing as a day that can't be salvaged, it'd be a broken tooth. </p>
<p>“Uh, thanks, Ashuna, but I’m gonna have to pass on that. I’ve got something I want to show the kids at the dojo, and I need to get there before the sun sets.”</p>
<p>“Raincheck?”</p>
<p>“Um, sure. See you.” Katara turns to go, only to stop in her tracks, feet dragging trenches through the snow. Something bright just flashed on the horizon, just over the rooftops, and she knows it wasn’t the sun sparking off the metal ships in the harbor, because it’s coming from the wrong direction. She’s pretty sure she wasn’t imagining it, but—</p>
<p>There. There it is again. A sinuous orange streak made that much more vivid by the darkening blue of the sky. The shape is odd, but there’s no mistaking it for anything but what it is.</p>
<p>Fire.</p>
<p>“Do you think everything’s alright over there?” Ashuna’s frowning now, and Katara has to fight to keep the automatic lurch of fear from showing on <em>her</em> face.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Her voice wavers, and she has to swallow and try again. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s fine. I’d better go check it out just in case, though.”</p>
<p>Ashuna’s frowning at<em> her</em> now, in open concern. “Be careful, Katara.”</p>
<p>Katara barely hears her, and only just remembers to throw an “Uh-huh” over her shoulder at the very last second. She’s not exactly running, but she’s not quite walking, either.</p>
<p>It’s fine. Some of the diplomats are firebenders, and Zuko would never allow any of them to raise a hand to her people in violence. It’s fine.</p>
<p>But. Still. The fire came from the direction of Pakku’s dojo, and the fear Katara feels now is as instinctual and conditioned as the fear she felt yesterday at the docks. It’s a part of who she is, and she doesn’t know if there’ll ever be any getting rid of it.</p>
<p>She rounds the final corner and skids to a stop, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her parka, fingers clutching numbly at the chest of waterbending scrolls. She was right; the fire <em>was </em>coming from the dojo. But the part of her that feared the worst was wrong.</p>
<p>So very, very wrong.</p>
<p>Zuko’s sitting on the open patch of ground just outside the dojo, legs folded beneath of him, hair let loose from his formal topknot to hang in a shaggy curtain around his face. A knot of children are gathered in a semi-circle around him as though waiting for story time, their wide, enraptured eyes reflecting the flames that Zuko swirls through the air with the ease of a master.</p>
<p>Katara’s shoulders gradually lower from their tensed hunch, breath evening out only to catch all over again. She was right about the flames being unusually shaped. As Zuko slices his hands through the air, the rope of fire moves with them, twisting like a golden snake.</p>
<p>But, no. It’s <em>not</em> a snake. Snakes don’t have feet, and they certainly don’t have wings, or horns, or whiskers sprouting from long, canine muzzles. They don’t open their mouths and spit fire to make children gasp in half-fearful awe.</p>
<p>Katara’s surprised laugh slips out of her mouth to tremble like mist in the cold air, but Zuko doesn’t look up, doesn’t hear it, because it’s overwhelmed by the shrieks of the gathered children.</p>
<p>A dragon. He’s making a dancing dragon.</p>
<p>Katara stands there for a little while longer, watching the dragon twist in on itself above their heads and turn the moisture in the cold air to steam. Belatedly, she notices Ty Lee sitting beside Zuko, dressed in full Kyoshi Warrior regalia and clapping with as much open delight as the children around her. Behind them, leaning against the doors to the dojo with his arms crossed over his chest, stands Pakku. He meets Katara’s eyes and smirks very slightly.</p>
<p>Katara shakes her head at her grandfather and walks closer, settling down in an empty spot between two children with the chest of waterbending scrolls cradled securely in her lap. Zuko’s good eye widens when he spots her, and the dragon stutters for a moment—much to the children’s vocal dismay—before steadying out again. Zuko sweeps his hands down toward the ground, and the dragon twists closer to Katara, so close that she can feel the heat of the flames stinging her face like sunburn. She doesn’t flinch, though. She’s not afraid. Not of Zuko.</p>
<p>Seeing the dragon up close <em>does</em> give her an idea, though, and she uncaps her pouch, summoning the water from within it. She scrunches her forehead and fixes her tongue between her teeth, feeling her chi swirl wildly at the center of her as she strains with the effort of shaping the water in ways she’s not used to, teasing out little stumps for legs and forming the vague suggestion of wings. The end result isn’t as pretty as Zuko’s, but she doesn’t think it’s bad for her first try. When she sends her dragon twisting toward his, the children (and Ty Lee) squeal in delight.</p>
<p>She looks across the circle to Zuko, but he’s not smiling at her like she was expecting (hoping) he would. No, the look on his face is far too intense for a smile, not unlike the way he looked at her in her dad’s office, and her hands stutter and nearly drop the water dragon’s shape. She saves it at the last minute, though, which is good for all of them; they would’ve gotten soaked, otherwise, and Sokka <em>really</em> wouldn’t let her hear the end of that.</p>
<p>Zuko twists his fingers, then, sending his dragon forward to meet Katara’s. They nearly collide, then steer out of each other’s paths at the last minute, twisting higher and higher into the air. Katara watches Zuko’s movements closely, imitating him as best she can and molding her water into a more clearly defined shape. She can feel more people gathering around them, adults as well as children, but she doesn’t allow her concentration to break. There’s just her and Zuko and the dance of their elements.</p>
<p>She gets an idea that makes her grin, and sends her dragon shuttling after Zuko’s, pinching her fingers together to make it snap playfully at the fire dragon’s heels. Zuko pulls an exaggerated scowl, and the fire dragon turns on hers with a mute snarl, flames crackling. Katara laughs and sends her dragon skittering away, and the fire dragon gives chase.</p>
<p>It’s funny, but it’s almost as if <em>she’s</em> the one who’s being chased, she’s so breathless—and as she would during a real play chase, she eventually allows herself to be caught. The fire dragon brushes up against hers with a hiss of steam, and her heart gives a single, jarring thump.</p>
<p>Her fingers are shaking a little now as she combs them through the air, looping her dragon’s long, misty body around Zuko’s. The fire dragon returns the water dragon’s embrace, and they coil around one another until they’re completely intertwined, hanging in the air for a moment, close and still, before beginning to dissolve in a cloud of steam.</p>
<p>What remains of the fire dragon fades away with a hiss and a pop, and Katara bends her leftover water into her pouch. The gathered onlookers break into a round of applause, and Katara smiles at one of her students when he runs up to hug her arm and squeal to her about how cool that was. She’s only listening with half an ear, though, as her eyes drift inevitably to Zuko.</p>
<p>He<em> is</em> smiling now, but it’s a small smile, a private smile, and it makes Katara’s face burn as if the fire dragon really <em>had </em>scalded her. Zuko’s hands flex in his lap, and her skin sears hotter.</p>
<p>She has to look away, then, afraid of what he’ll see in her eyes if he looks into them for too long. She thinks back to what Shufen said, that she was right to turn down a political marriage in favor of waiting for love. </p>
<p>She doesn’t want to be a pawn in the international political landscape. She doesn’t. But the more she thinks about it, the more clearly she realizes that she wouldn’t be opposed to some of the things that a marriage to Zuko would entail. Like holding his hand and getting to hear his quiet laughter every day. Like using their bending in tandem to create something beautiful, or relying on his warmth when the cold of the South gets to be too much even for her. Like holding him close and not having to step away when the embrace starts to drag on for too long. Like—</p>
<p>“Yes, yes, that’s enough, now,” Pakku says, snapping her out of it as sharply and suddenly as a clean break in a bone. “Fire Lord Zuko and Master Katara put on quite the show, but class is now in session.”</p>
<p>The children chorus a groan, but Pakku’s having none of it. “Oh, are you disappointed? Too bad. Move along, now, before I start assigning people to bucket duty.”</p>
<p>More groans follow on the heels of that not-empty threat, but the kids get moving, and despite the fact that her heart’s still racing about a mile a minute, Katara finds herself smiling wryly. Nobody wants to be the one to fill the buckets they use for waterbending practice, even if the repetition is good for helping them learn the basics.</p>
<p>Pakku’s legs appear in her line of vision, and when he offers her a hand up, she tucks the chest of scrolls under one arm and allows herself to be pulled to her feet before turning, rather reluctantly, to Zuko.</p>
<p>“Would you, um—” Her eyes flit to his face, then away. Ty Lee is trying very, very hard to appear absolutely fascinated by a pattern in the clouds, but that only makes Katara feel even more awkward. “Would you like to stay and watch? The kids’ve been practicing really hard, and I’m sure they’d love a chance to show off for you.”</p>
<p>Zuko stands up and dusts snow off his pants, looking about as awkward as Katara feels. “Are you sure? I wouldn't want to place any undue pressure on them.”</p>
<p>His consideration for the children’s feelings makes Katara go warm around the middle, but Pakku just snorts. “If you ask me, those unruly little koala otters could use a good bit of pressure. You’re welcome to join us if it pleases you, Lord Zuko.”</p>
<p>Having said so, Pakku turns away and heads inside, but Katara lingers, and so does Zuko. After a moment of agonized indecision, she holds out her hand and tries to smile at him the way she used to, like everything’s normal and she can’t feel her pulse drumming in her ears.</p>
<p>“Coming?”</p>
<p>Zuko looks at her. Looks at her hand. Eventually, he takes it, and allows her to lead him into the dojo.  </p>
<p>And if Katara holds his hand a little tighter than she ever has before, well. That’s her business, and Ty Lee can just keep her knowing little smile to herself.   </p>
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